The Meadow 93 Domain Skyler Osborne 3 horses stared at a dead horse in the uplands. Bells on their necks, and blood cells in them, trillions. Every word red automatically, menaced by my brother, the first crime he committed. He will outlive the bees, their frenzied gestures, and drop his flowers. My patriot, my devastator. My nerve disease. If my right arm is weakened, I will cut it off and sit in my bankruptcy—myself because the earth is ugly. All of it is mine.
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